Dearly Beloved
by Oddfellow
Summary: She was so beautiful at the wedding... Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. I don't particularly like Twilight. I am beating my head against the wall for even writing this fanfic. It just... happened. And I don't own the wedding vows, either, although I did tweak them a bit to fit into the context of this story.

Dearly Beloved

_Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the presence of these, your many friends and family, to join this man, and this woman, in holy matrimony which is an honorable estate instituted by God_...

She had been so beautiful at the wedding.

The trees slid past him, branches whipping his face as he raced through the moonlit forest, carelessly crashing through the underbrush in his rush to reach the meadow. He had been so much more careful, that first time, when he had carried her on his back. _So_ _careful_. A low-hanging limb snapped as he shoved between the dark boughs. In the beginning, he had been careful. Every step he had taken—protecting her, leaving her—had been done in the name of caution. Every selfish act had been done in the name of love. And now, everything, all those steps and acts, selfish and selfless alike, came to nothing. A chance for a whole world, and now—nothing. Just the forest and the night and his grim resolve.

Alice hadn't even seen it coming. He had almost unleashed his rage on her before Jasper had stopped him, hurling him back into the wall without even trying to calm his fury. Her explanation was swift, though her voice was choked. He hadn't had the _intention_, she told him desperately. It was like Victoria's army—she wouldn't see what would happen until the plan was definite, and he was _so sure_ he could do it that she hadn't seen the warning until it was moments before _too late_. He had done it before, had he not? He had drunk her blood, and she had lived. And all it should've been was one bite, one small bite, and then just holding her, rocking her, soothing her until the pain was past and she could be _his_ forever and he could leave _careful_ behind. It was so close.

Except Edward had stopped being careful—and it was too soon.

_It is therefore not to be entered into unadvisedly, but reverently, discretely,__and to the fear of God that these two persons come now to be joined..._

And her blood had kept flowing, and flowing, onto his lips, down his throat...

His family had almost tried to stop him, once they realized what he intended to do next. Almost. And collectively, he knew, they might have been able to do it. But Jasper's powers were swamped by the terrible nothingness that consumed Edward; Esme's pleas, Emmett's threats, and Rosalie's horrified face could not weaken his resolution. And Alice, poor Alice, whose crushing shame was still incomparable to his own, was the first to know what he had planned. She had seen every possibility that his mind scrolled through as he plotted and discarded and despaired. In the end, when he had finally chosen, it was her lack of sight that led to her realization, and her protests were the most frantic of all.

He didn't need his family's permission, and he couldn't be moved by their dissuasion, but there was one face he needed to see before he departed, one love he could not leave unacknowledged. He had turned to Carlisle in supplication, tipsy with guilt, pleading silently that he would be understood, forgiven; and Edward hadn't needed to read his father's mind to know that he had Carlisle's blessing, sorrowfully though it was given. Carlisle had nodded for the benefit of the others, and Edward shut his mind resolutely as the farewells began. Esme wailed and clung to him, and Rosalie had turned her face away, tight-lipped, but Emmett seized him in a bear hug, which Edward had forced himself to feebly return. Jasper had clasped his hand, the previous quarrel forgotten. He made sure to give the silent Alice a peck on the cheek as a last apology for his earlier behavior; the combined grief of his family pressed upon his mind and expounded his own, but surely they could understand. They would have to, in the end. Any one of them could envision this same emptiness if the love of their existence ceased to live. How the whole world seemed to scream silently, _Your love is dead_, how the colors ran together on the dribbling canvas of reality, how the sun was at long last truly forbidden, how the great abyss of eternity now yawned unbearably ahead—they would understand it in the end. 

Carlisle had been the last to say goodbye. The embrace was brief but strong, and the hard kiss burned on his brow even now as he neared the clearing. 

_I charge you both to remember that love and loyalty alone will avail in the__foundation of a happy home..._

The soft glow of the moon gave the meadow a quiet ethereality; the serenity of the night was rivaled in beauty only by the memory of the sunlight caressing her astonished face, that first day. He paused for a moment and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent, grasping blindly for that old sense of peace. That spot, there—that was where they had lain in the grass and talked, and touched, and begun to hope. That was where he had truly begun to listen to the cadence of her gentle heartbeat. 

The heartbeat that he had stopped.

His head snapped away. He halted his breath. Enough now. Enough. Let it pass, and let it end, he told himself. Turning away from his memories, he lifted his eyes and scanned the field before him.

His last hope stood waiting for him across the rippling grass, bright against the dark tree line of the forest. Moonlight glinted off the bare skin of Jacob Black, curving almost lovingly around the muscles of his arms and shoulders, the clenched fists, the taut face. How unutterably right this was, Edward reflected as he stopped a few paces in front of the glowering werewolf. God might pity him after all.

"I got your note, bloodsucker. What do you want?" Jacob's voice was callous, but Edward could read his apprehension, could see her face in his mind. 

_If the solemn vows that you are about to assume be kept pure, your lives will be full of joy and the home you__are establishing will abide in peace..._

"Thank you for coming, Jacob," Edward said quietly. He bowed his head for a second, but—no. Jacob deserved to be looked in the eye. At least for this. "I am afraid..." How could he possibly say it? How could he let those words fall from his lips, those lips that just an hour ago had been wet with her blood? "...that your fears are not unwarranted," he finished lamely.

"What?" Jacob demanded. "What the hell does that mean?" His thoughts were now tinged with panic. 

Put him out of his misery, he thought to himself. Put him out of his misery, and pray he will put me out of mine. A moment to steel himself, and then—"She's dead," he said flatly. "I killed her, Jacob."

"_What?_" Jacob's mind seethed with horror, with disbelief. The rage, the terror, the absolute refusal to believe what he was hearing surged into Edward, twisting the knife that was already embedded in his heart. It could not be true, it could not, and for a moment Edward believed it himself, it was just a lie, it wasn't true, except—

"I drained her. I—my God." He closed his eyes, trying vainly to push back the tide of Jacob's fury, doubling the strength of his own self-loathing. "She was so certain. She said she didn't think I could kill her even if I wanted to. I was certain, as well." His voice broke. "I thought I could deny myself her blood. I was so sure."

_No other human ties are more tender, no more perfect than those which you are about to assume..._

The moment of silence before Jacob's scream was almost past enduring. It was shattered at last by an ear-splitting howl as he ripped into his wolf shape and launched himself at Edward. He didn't move, didn't even raise his arms in defense, as the great furred body slammed him to the ground, pinning him under its suffocating weight. Claws tore mercilessly at his chest; his face was bleeding and he could feel teeth scrape against bone, and he smiled, smiled as his marble-hard skin was rent to pieces and his own blood dripped from his mouth.

_I ask you, Edward, and I ask you, Bella, are you both now ready to profess your faith to each other_?

The great onslaught of blows ceased abruptly. Edward looked up blearily through the thick haze of red to see Jacob's human face glaring down at him, his mouth stained with blood. "Fight, dammit!" he growled brokenly. "Why aren't you fighting?"

"Because I want you to kill me, Jacob Black," he said hoarsely. Simply.

Jacob seized the front of his tattered shirt and slammed him against the ground. "Why," he snarled through clenched teeth, "why would you come to me? To rub it in? To see my face when you told me you killed her, you bastard?"

"You loved her. I destroyed her," Edward murmured. "It seems...appropriate. The closest we can come to...justice." He hadn't felt this much physical pain in almost a century; it was making it difficult to concentrate. He let Jacob's mind fill him, Jacob, Jacob who was seeing red, Jacob who was really all that was left, who so clearly_knew_...

"If..." Jacob took a shuddering breath, but his grip on Edward's shirt didn't slacken. "If I kill you, I'll break the treaty. Bella..." he swallowed hard. "She wanted it, so... we weren't going to press, but...if I kill you, it means war. And she didn't want that." He was choking by the end. The tears from his eyes were dripping onto Edward's cheek.

"My family will not avenge me. I swear it. There will be no war." Edward could hear his voice grow ragged with desperation. Jacob must not refuse. He could not.

But Jacob's fists were losing their iron grip. He slumped forward, sobbing in earnest, forehead hitting the longest gash on Edward's chest; he winced. "You killed her, you son of a bitch," Jacob whispered in anguish. "You actually killed her. She wanted _you_, she chose_you_, and all you could do was kill her. I could've—" But he couldn't finish; a bellow of loss wrenched itself from Jacob's lips, and Edward wondered whose tears were really on his cheeks. 

_I ask you, Edward..._

"I ask you, Jacob," he said softly, "to finish what you have begun. I do not ask for your forgiveness. I do not ask for your mercy. Finish this, as you see fit; I have wronged you and Bella both. She would never hold me accountable, but... you must. And perhaps you can find some measure of peace in the deed. Please do this, for all our sakes." 

_It is now time for both of you to face each other... _

Jacob raised his head slowly; the tear tracks on his cheeks glittered in the moonlight, and a soft summer breeze ruffled his tousled hair. His eyes were bright, and Edward could feel the despair, that great sinkhole of grief and loss, resolving itself into determined action. Bella's face flickered in their minds and her laughter rang in their ears, compelling them to face that unquenchable longing, that hopeless, doomed desire that had been their undoing. They were one person then, one person with one sorrow and one goal. They loved, they hated, and they were, for just one moment of that vast eternity, inseparable. 

For Bella, they could be.

Jacob's features slowly began to shift. Edward smiled wearily. His last words were almost a sigh.

"Thank you, Jacob."

_...and profess your faith to one another._

_fin_

A/N: Yes, yes, I_ know_ Edward isn't going to kill Bella, and I _know _Jacob isn't going to kill Edward, but the idea for this possible ending was too compelling to leave unexplored. I realize it was long, and dark, and that I killed the two beloved main characters. It was tough—so many, many thanks for reading. 


End file.
